"An Argument Against Photography" (c) 2008
"An Argument Against Photography" © May 2008 Stu Jenks
[The two images are from Bard, New Mexico, a 21st Century ghost-town, along Interstate 40]
"When you come to a fork in the road, take it" - Yogi Berra.
I'm done. Stick a fork in me. I'm toast. Fuck it.
My dream of having a career as a financially viable Visual Artist ended at 4:45 on Sunday, May 11th, 2008, when I closed my studio door and left to hike up Tumamoc Hill. I had just spent two days in my studio trying to sell my Fine Art prints. I was my normal cordial self, telling stories about my images, polite to all. And I didn't sell one print the whole weekend (With the exception of selling a print that I had made a tentative arrangement to sell, to someone who already had the print in her possession. She brought a check. That doesn't count.) Not one fucking print. I was selling my prints for half of what the market value in Tucson will bear, for that's what we do at the Open Studio Tours. Sell stuff a bit cheaper, cash and carry, without gallery rep fees. Anyway, I was pissed. Am still angry and hurt but doing OK I suppose. Sometimes a bad thing ends up being a good thing, and vice versa. I was on the verge of buying a new long fast $1700 Canon lens but then realized that at some point I have to say to myself, 'Stu, this has failed. Stop throwing money down a shit hole.'
So I'm done. I put in ten good years to make it as a Fine Art Photographer. I have failed. It is what it is.
[And I'm not quitting simply because of one bad weekend. No. Below is my lengthy argument against continuing my journey at having an Art career. With a little history, and some fun and not-so-fun facts. But it's all true. No pulled punches. OK, a couple glancing blows to protect some people, but mostly full force. And don't expect correct grammar and tight writing here. It's not a vision statement or a story with arc. It's a rant.]
I began this dream, this committed effort to have a career as a Fine Artist, in the 1996. Actually I got a BFA in Studio Art in 1979, but the hard-core push began in the late 1990's. Went back to school and learned how to print Black and White. Use the Toole Shed darkroom to print the prints. Had a plan. Here's what it was.
I'd build a large portfolio. I'd get a rep or two or three. I'd find patrons to buy my work. I'd do the work. I'd take the images. I'd increase my resume with lots of juried shows. I'd make a photo book or two, if I could get an agent. I'd sell large and small Fine Art prints, for large and small amounts of money. I'd sell the limited use rights of my images to others, not through stock houses but through myself and art representatives. I hoped to make enough money to someday quit the day job. I'm talking about making net, between 20 and 30 thousand a year. Not a lot of coin but enough for me to live on and to make more flame spiral images. Enough to continue the Work. I figured I could probably do that, if I continued to work hard, find representation, made images that were original and Stu-like and get lucky along the way. I also figure I would have to risk some and go into a little bit of debt. And at the very least, I hoped to break even, if I couldn't make it a full time job.
I began making the images. I built the portfolio, got a rep or two, had some patrons, increased the resume, sold quite a bit but not a lot, made a name for myself worldwide with my mysterious images of flame spirals and archetypal symbols.
And went into more and more debt.
In good years in the past ten years, I made $3000 to $5000 gross a year, in print sales, limited rights usage for CD covers, book covers, corporate logos, etc., but my expense were between $5000 and $8000 a year, in film, paper, ink, studio space, lab fees, framing, gas, lodging, new equipment, etc. Bottom Line: I was going into about $2000 to $3000 a year into debt on my credit cards.
Now, I'm over $25,000 in debt to my plastic. A quarter of my income that I get from the day job, (as a licensed substance abuse counselor and treatment assessor,) goes toward the interest and the principle. And sales and user rights have diminished over the last three years. Last year I grossed $3523.15 in art business.
Also, I'm not a trust fund baby, a husband of someone who is supporting me, or a retired person with $500,000 in investments, where I live off the interest. I make $20,000 a year after taxes as a counselor.
You may ask, 'Why don't you get a better paying job?'
Answer: Because I really don't think it's a good idea. I've prayed about it a lot and the answer is always 'stay'. I'm a good counselor, a good treatment assessor, a good group facilitator and plus I have health insurance and benefits worth $6000 a year. Sure, my passion for the Field of Addictions has waned some since the late 1980's but it's hard to get a job that pays $30,000 plus gross in Tucson. We are a poor city. And I was trying to eventually get out of the field and work as a visual artist, you know.
You may ask, 'Why don't you get a job as a photographer, shooting weddings or corporate stuff?'
Answer: Because I'm not a photographer. I just use a camera to record and make images that are Fine Art to me. Images with some mystery, with some wonder, and sometimes with some edge. Printed on archival paper. Suitable for framing or to be sold for limited use to others. And by saying I'm not a photographer, I'm not being falsely modest. I shoot the occasional wedding for friends but I'm not very good at that (Even though they would tell you otherwise.) And if I were a professional wedding photographer, I would be an active alcoholic before the year was out. And I find straight photography quite boring. I don't want to shoot building facades, and smiling Captains of Industry for a living! Fuck that! And I don't read books about famous photographers, nor stand in awe of the Greats, be they artists or musicians or writers (OK, Dylan, and Cockburn, and Gabriel I listen to in awe.) I like my Arbus and my Adams, but I think Winogrand is overrated and Witkin is a creep. I don't use strobes or light bags, nor wish to ever learn. I could give a flying fuck about color temps. I just use the camera as a tool. If I could use a pencil and paper, I would use that.
Which bring me to my argument against photography. Not only for me but for others as well perhaps.
If you want to make a living being a photographer, forget it. OK, don't forget it but it's going to be a very difficult climb in this day and age. I know two pros, good guys, who make a living off of selling stock photos, and specialty weather images, and they working hard, doing jobs other photo jobs around town but they are struggling, and they have over 50 years experience between them. I know another photographer in Los Angeles. Great guy. Great artist as both an Fine Art photographer and as a pro. Shot as a Unit Photographer for Television for a while, but couldn't get enough work to survive. He's now working as a line cook again and going back to school in his forties to get a teaching certificate to teach high school kids. I know another photographer who used to make good money shooting airplanes but that job moved away, and she has now gone back to school to learn graphic design, but is having a hell of a time finding work in that field too. And these are all hard working, very good people, who know how to play well with others.
Oh, and about getting paid. It's gotten worse and worse, getting money from corporation and companies for commercial work and for art work. Most take the philosophy of ‘Buy Low-Sell High' into their negotiations with pro photographers, artists and graphics people. Now, many only hired young kids right out of school, for they know they are hungry and they can get them cheap. And pro photographers, artists and graphics people are now doing twice as much work as they used to do, for less and less money. It's a goddamn shame.
Add to that the 21st Century’s overarching world trend toward people not wanting to pay for anything, anymore. We live in a Time of Entitlement. As Gillian Welch sang in her song “Everything Is Free” about people ripping off musicians, ‘Someone hit the big score/They figured it out/That we're gonna do it anyway/Even if doesn't pay.’ People steal music off of piers on the Internet, and don't pay for it. I've been ripped off by some musicians in South America who took some low res jpegs off my website and made albums covers from them. And they promised money but it never came. But that doesn't bother me that much. The price of doing business.
What chaps my ass is no one wants to pay real money for my fine art giclee or my gelatin silver prints or my crystal archives, or for the use of my images for commercial ventures. (With some exception of course. I have had dealings with some good business people but they are few and far between.) They want it for cheap. I was selling 13 x 19 inch giclees, on good paper, at my studio this weekend for $110 (which includes tax, so that gross $100 for me. Net maybe $50 a print. Maybe.) Retail they sell for $200 to $350 (and they have in the past.) But people groaned at the price and it keeps getting worse, year after year.
I can blame the economy but I don't think that alone is entirely the truth. These people are what I call Ritz Crackers, low class white people with a lot of money. They can afford it. Hell, a few people this weekend went out of their way to impress me on the future and past vacations to Europe. They got the cash. They liked the images. They just want it for free or cheap.
So finally, here's my final argument against photography as a viable career. The last nail.
Everyone has a camera now, and most people can take reasonable pictures. My elderly mother does OK with a disposable, for Christ’s sake. Everyone can take their jpegs (or ones they've pulled off the Web) and put them on their own desktop. And they are happy with that. Or corporate guys get their secretary to got out and take some pictures for them. Or they hire hungry kids. Or they low-ball me. Anyway. It's easy now. Your brother in law can shoot your wedding and they'll look pretty good.
So those are my arguments against photography now. For me. Others may want to shoot calendars of cute animals or do porno for website, or shoot weddings and rip off brides, or take table scraps from The Man. Not me. No thank you.
Oh, and a final thought. You may have seen someone who is making the kind of Art that I affectionately call 'Nightmares on a Wall.' (You know what I mean. Butt-ugly shit but it has an impressive rap behind it,) and that someone is apparently making a living off the Nightmares, or they are trying to convince you that they are making a living off it, and they don't have a full time teaching position, and I'll show you someone who has a mysterious source of income that they aren't talking about. Perhaps a well-healed husband or wife. Maybe a trust fund. Maybe a rich dad. (I know a mediocre stoner photographer whose Dad has budgeted a quarter of a million dollars for his career. $250,000. And if it weren't for a couple of talented graphic people color-correcting his transparencies, his stuff would look like complete shit. And he is publishing his third book now and is represented by one of the biggest Art agencies in New York.) Maybe an early retirement account. But they aren't making it off the Art. They are making it somewhere else. And I can count on one hand from that large group of artists, who fall into that category, who actually admit to having big money behind the scenes. The others' smugness disgusts me. Also, you'll find musicians, and writers who fall into this category as well. And some of these fucks say what I'm doing is a 'hobby', or that I shouldn't expect to make any money. God damn easy for them to say that. (And word to the wise: Don't call what I do a 'hobby' to my face. You may get punched if my blood sugar is low. Then again you won't have the chance now, for Elvis is leaving the building.)
So friends and neighbors, and strangers on the Web, I'm done. I'm not going to spend good money after bad anymore. I'm not going to buy the great $1700 lens that I want. Makes no sense. I'll still shoot some, but not like I have in the past. I'll still make some prints but not very many now. I'll let my resume go stale and my portfolio grow old. What's in the box will be what I have to sell, except for custom orders of larger prints and those will be for sale for the full market value, taken from my fotoQuote program. No more screaming deals. I'll shoot some roller derby, but not as much. Maybe none at all. (Too much expense on ink and paper and time. It's a labor of love but I end up feeling resentful, for Tucson Roller Derby pays the musicians that play at halftime. Why not pay the photographers too? Doesn't matter now.) No more weddings. (Oh, wait a minute. I don't shoot weddings anyway.) No more cheap CD deals for musicians (One in particular that comes to mine is a player who jumps from artist to artist so he can get images for cheap. Then again, he stopped asking me for images a long time ago, when I started asking for what I was worth.) No more cold call book submissions to large and small publishing houses. If I do a book, I'll pay for it with my mother's inheritance after she dies which, given her manic narcissistic energy, won't be for another ten years or more.) No more hopes for making twenty grand a year. I'll keep the studio at BR 549 for I need someplace to store my stuff, and $188 a month for storage isn't a bad deal. Plus I can practice my mandolin and my synth there, at night.
Which bring me to the music.
I will continue to play music. I'm going to buy a new Apple laptop soon so I can record music again. (My old Apple hasn't enough RAM or speed to do what I need it to do anymore.) I will continue to learn and compose instrumental ambient pieces on the mandolin and the synthesizer, along with the odd song with lyrics about lost tribes and sad love. I will have no hope of having a career as a musician, but I will try and work at becoming a better player. I will hopefully play live more, by myself and with other people. I will play the mandolin and make my calluses thicker and harder. I will play the synthesizer and make the long sustains and releases longer and sweeter. I will continue to try and make a little mystery and beauty in the world, but it'll be audio not visual. Mostly.
I'm not going to be like Marcel Duchamp and give up Art to play chess. But I'm going to give up the Art career so I can take my girlfriend out to a better restaurant and hopefully within ten years get out of this mountain of debt. (Oh wait. I don't have a girlfriend.)
And I will play music. And sure, I'll take some pictures. I guess. I don't know. But I won't be spending a shit load of cash on ink, paper, gas, and new equipment to make some hoop dances in the desert that no one pays for. And please don't get me wrong. I have no sense of entitlement here. It's just that photography and what I've done in the past with a camera costs a lot of money. It's not like making ceramics in which you can buy dry clay for $50 a ton. Photographically creating what I do just cost too much money now, and the huge plastic debt I've incurred has taken too much of a psychic toll on me. I'm beginning to feel sad about it. I'm sure I'll grieve it harder in a few days. But right not, along with the anger, I feel some relief. Like my old country doctor back in North Carolina used to say, "It's like hitting yourself over the head with a hammer. It feels so good when you stop."
Yesterday, when I left the studio, I hiked up Tumamoc Hill, a beautiful little mountain minutes from my studio.
I didn't take my camera with me.
I took my mandolin instead.
Everything is Free
(Gillian Welch and David Rawlings)
Everything is free now,
That's what they say.
Everything I ever done,
Gotta give it away.
Someone hit the big score.
They figured it out,
That we're gonna do it anyway,
Even if doesn't pay.
I can get a tip jar,
Gas up the car,
And try to make a little change
Down at the bar.
Or I can get a straight job,
I've done it before.
I never minded working hard,
It's who I'm working for.
(Chorus)
Every day I wake up,
Hummin' a song.
But I don't need to run around,
I just stay home.
And sing a little love song,
My love, to myself.
If there's something that you want to hear,
You can sing it yourself.
'Cause everything is free now,
That what I say.
No one's got to listen to
The words in my head.
Someone hit the big score,
And I figured it out,
That we're gonna do it anyway,
Even if doesn't pay.
[Final thought: What I’m doing isn’t a Big Surrender where I ask God for direction and help as I plunge into the unknown. I’m giving up. I quit. But if a Cosmic Muffin, or a Good God, or a generous Rich Person puts $25,000 into my Paypal account so I can get out of debt, I’ll reconsider. However, I won’t be holding my breath.]






















